El nods and runs upstairs to get changed and grab her things. She's tying her hair off in a scrunchie on her way back down. Dustin-the-cat is following close behind; he's always careful to keep away from feet, even Hopper's, so Eleven isn't afraid of him tripping her up. Once on flat footing, he darts ahead and jumps into the little stand where his food dish sits, crooked tail lashing excitedly.

Eleven looks at the bowl. "You had breakfast already," she points out. He narrows his eyes at her and meows, and El rolls her eyes. "No. The vet said too much food is bad for your heart." He meows again, a longer, drawn out sound, and Eleven sighs. "One treat," she says, holding up a finger. She fishes the treat bag out from the plastic, shoe-box-sized container that holds the cat supplies. He jumps down and tangles around her legs, then jumps back up onto the stand, then jumps back down again in his impatience. El tosses the single treat kibble to the side, letting it scatter across the floor and making him chase after it.

That done, she puts the treats away, latches the lid, then turns to Hopper innocently.

"I'm ready."